The Rubicon has been crossed, Synopsis & 3 opening chapters are now with a publisher and I'm pounding out Chapter 15 [which might or might not be the last chapter of Jake's first book of adventures!], hoping I'll get there before the publisher asks to read the rest of the story .....

A few people have said they've been enjoying it so far, so here's another chapter ..........

Chapter Eight

Driven by curiosity, Jake’s first and most compelling need was to learn more of the mysterious-sounding Druids. Who were they, where did they come from, what did they do – or maybe, what did they represent: would that be more accurate? He seemed to half-remember odd snippets of information about them: a religious sect, he thought, and stopped himself, wondering. Religion? Sect? Where on earth did he know those words from? It had to be something in his obscure past, before he joined the ship: certainly nobody he’d spoken to amongst the crew had indicted any interest in or understanding of such abstract terms. He didn’t think taking the Lord’s name in vain counted, somehow, as “discussing religion” in any meaningful way

For the moment there were more important things to think about, such as deciding which barbecue pit smelt most appetising, or where he should try first for something to drink. As he stood and pondered, Rufe beckoned him over to join a group of ’prentices milling about a pit where the carcases of several chickens were spitted and seemed close to being ready to eat.

“Plenty for everyone here!” grinned Rufe, as the first bird was taken from the spit and quartered. One of the Druids stood at a table to one side with a basket of breads. His cowl had been flung back across his shoulders, and Jake got a clear look at the man beneath it. The Druid was a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties. He smiled encouragingly at all the young ’prentices but made no attempt to answer any of their remarks.

“Well, we are in Wales: perhaps he doesn’t speak English?” said Jake, when Rufe commented on the Druid’s silence.

“More than likely!” Tigertail sat politely at Jake’s feet, eyes gleaming in anticipation of his share of the feast.

“Are you as hungry as me?” Jake laughed as he spoke aloud, covering his momentary jerk of surprise when the cat had answered the reply he’d made to Rufe. “Don’t worry! There’s plenty for you, too: or perhaps you’d prefer some fish instead? Look, I think that looks finished over the next fire .... ”

“Do you really have to spoil perfectly good fish by burning it? Can’t I have some fresh, instead?”

Laughing still, Jake took his plate of chicken and threaded his way to the next pit. There he begged a whole uncooked trout for Tigertail and added two loaves of piping-hot bara brith to his plate before moving over to a quiet corner to devour them.

When Jake had licked his plate clean (and Tigertail had reduced his fish to bones) he stood to have a look around and decide where they should next try their look. He stretched, feeling satisfied but far from sated. At his side, Tigertail also stretched in that

certain manner which is the particular trait of cats. Anyone watching would have immediately spotted the similarities between boy and cat, but would have been quite unable to say which was imitating the other.

Jake noticed that the Druid who had been standing by the fire where he’d taken his portion was now apparently ‘off duty’ and had sat down to eat something himself. Although he sensed it was probably a waste of time trying to communicate with someone who did not appear to speak English, Jake felt nonetheless that it was only polite to approach their benefactor and at least try to thank him for the food.

He squatted opposite the Druid, who looked up from his food and smiled. Feeling just a little self-conscious, Jake pointed at the food on the Druid’s plate, nodded, and licked his lips, patting his stomach. Finally he extended one hand, palm open, in an invitation to shake. The Druid’s face clouded briefly with uncertainty, and then he stopped eating and made as if to offer Jake what remained of his portion. Realising the misunderstanding, Jake immediately withdrew his hand, shaking his head: he would never have dreamed of asking the Druid to give up his own food, and was embarrassed at the thought that the Druid had misunderstood his intentions.

Looking for a way to explain, he joined his own hands together and made a pantomime of ‘shaking with himself’. This the Druid appeared to understand, and when Jake then extended his right hand once more the Druid clasped it firmly.

“Thank You.” he said, simply, hoping this simple phrase would be understood.

“Diolch: diolch yn fawr.”

“Does that mean, ‘thank you’, I wonder?” thought Jake.

“I’m sure it does!” came a thought from Tigertail immediately “I’m getting a very clear ‘message’ from him, almost as clear as I get from you!”

The Druid’s eyes narrowed, and a curious expression crossed his face. He looked hard at Tigertail, almost as if .....

“ ..... yes, I’m sure now: he does understand me – and  you, too, if you try hard enough!”

This was beginning to get a bit scary, thought Jake. Having a conversation with your pet cat was one thing: and even that was strange. But being able to understand someone whose language you didn’t even know (and without even having to speak out loud!): now that was something else .... !

Still, nothing ventured .......... He sat comfortably opposite the Druid and looked him

squarely in the eye. There was always one obvious way to begin. He cleared his throat, more to gain the Druid’s full attention rather than because he was about to speak. After all, they hadn’t used words so far at all, had they?

He placed his hand (dramatically, and not without feeling just a little foolish) on his chest.

“Jake.”  He thought, and pointed to the Druid. The gesture was understood immediately.

“Morgan ap Rhys.”

The gestures were repeated several times, to make certain there was no misunderstanding. Jake was suddenly aware that they were still ‘thinking’ at each other rather than speaking out loud, and looked around guiltily. Fortunately, as far as he could tell they’d been lucky: nobody was paying any attention, or appeared to have noticed their silent gestures.

He took the initiative to make the next step before their luck ran out.

“Jake.” This time he vocalised his name and watched intently as the Druid appeared to be mulling the sound over in his mind for a moment.

“Diyyaik? Dd ... Jake?”

“Jake.”

After a few attempts, Jake managed to say ‘Morgan’ closely enough for the Druid to accept his attempts and they went on by leaps and bounds, sometimes forgetting to vocalise words but for the most part learning by experience the sounds of each other’s language. Before long, they had a small audience of curious bystanders (almost exclusively ’prentices). For appearances’ sake they then had to remember to speak aloud even when it was so frustratingly simple to ‘think’ certain ideas at each other.

Morgan ap Rhys had lived all his life on Ynys Môn and had joined the Druids three summers previously. Jake soon established that ‘ap’ meant “son of” and was one of several ways of describing family ties according to Welsh customs. He was reluctant to say more about his family or relatives, and Jake was savvy enough not to press the point: after all, what would he be able to say in return, if asked?

 “ .......... and then he told me that Merthyr, the  .... the Chief Druid, I suppose, but he had a special word for it .... anyway, Merthyr wants you to eat with him this evening, Cap’n, and he wants me .... “

“ .... us!!”

“ ......... and Tigertail too, with your permission, Cap’n! ..... anyway, he asked for me to come along in case one of you needs something explaining .... “

Jake faltered, unsure of the look in Johnny Dupl’eau’s eyes at this unusual request.

“Why the cat, Jake?”

Jake had thought of a suitable way of explaining this, and for all he knew it might even be not too far from the actual truth of the matter.

“Morgan thinks that Tigertail seems to act as a sort of a channel, that somehow he’s what made it possible for us to understand each other this afternoon. He can’t explain it any more than I can: but we found out almost by accident, really, that we could understand each other much better if we both stroked the cat. We even tried grasping each other’s hands, but even that didn’t seem to work as well as when we were both touching Tigertail! To him, as a Druid, it doesn’t seem so surprising: after all, they practice magic, don’t they? “

Cap’n Johnny stared.

“As it happens, Jake, you’re right! I’ve known Merthyr for many years now, and he trusted me enough to tell me that a long time ago: but it’s supposed to be a secret, all the same! How did you know about it?”

Jake wasn’t prepared for this, and felt uncomfortable.

“I don’t know how, Sir” he admitted, slowly “It just seems I’ve .... always known. Or perhaps I sensed it from – you know, talking with Morgan .....?”

Even as the words left his lips, this sounded flat and unconvincing, but it was the best he could do. He didn’t really want to have to admit that there had been a much fuller, deeper understanding between himself and the Druid that afternoon than the ’prentice audience  had been able to hear in words or witness in the accompanying gestures.

Another eternity passed while Johnny Dupl’eau inspected his youngest crew member carefully from head to toe. At last he nodded, seemingly content with what he saw.

“There’s no shadow of a lie in you, Jake, or I’m a Cornishman!”

Johnny Duple’eau had a well-known loathing of Cornishmen, for some reason which he had never bothered to explain.

“From what I know of Druid rites, and from what I’ve learned first-hand about you, young Jake, I’m inclined to believe that there may quite possibly be some sort of magic at work, here! Because, wherever you came from before you joined my ship at .... now, was it Plymouth or Portsmouth? Not that it matters! Wherever you came from’s none of my business, anyway! You’re far too young to have learnt (and forgotten you’d learnt!) a jawcracker of a language such as Welsh! To sit down and (with or without the possible assistance of a cat!) hold a conversation with a Druid who’s never left the island he was born on can only be explained as magic of some sort! Yes, yes, of course the two of you will attend the meeting, and I’d be obliged if you make sure Morgan ap Rhys carries that message back to Merthyr!”

Relieved to have skated safely over what he had felt to be very thin ice indeed without coming a cropper, Jake rose and all but fled from the Captain’s presence before an embarrassing question could be asked. Tigertail followed at a more leisurely pace.

“The lad’s honest, whatever else he may be!” said Sam, whose opinion as bo’sun Cap’n Johnny respected and trusted. Johnny refilled both their glasses with overproof rum.

“I agree, although for the life of me I can’t say why! But there’s something odd about him, something I can’t put a finger on. It’s quite possible, I suppose, that before he came to us he’d been  .... kidnapped, press-ganged, even beaten (though I must confess I saw no signs of this on him when he came aboard). But why can’t I even be sure where and when he joined up? Any why haven’t you got a record of it? You’ve always been so careful with the Logbook .....!”

Sam shrugged, and took a generous mouthful of rum.

“I’m glad you’ve noticed my efforts to keep the book up to date” he said “but I don’t understand why Jake’s slipped through the system, either! But you know, while we’re talking about ship records, the crew have been asking me about what sort of pay and bonuses we can expect when we get back to Liverpool. Now the way I see it .... ”

With a companionable arm around Johnny Dupl’eau’s shoulders, Sam began to explain just what the crew expected in the way of remuneration for their latest series of piratical escapades as they withdrew to the bo’sun’s cabin for a closer inspection of the Log.